


Learning Curve

by LittleDarkling



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, mention of MPREG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarkling/pseuds/LittleDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve discovers that having with a daughter with magic has its own set of rules </p><p>Follow-up to 'Family'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel owns the characters, I’m just playing with them. No infringement intended, no profit made. This is a work of fan love
> 
> A/N: This is sort of a sequel to 'Family'. Might be a series, if I can ever finish anything I start

 

 

 

Before Asta was born, Steve had purchased a substantial amount of books on the subject of baby care and child-rearing. Some penned by PHDs, child psychologists and professors who quoted theories, statistics and studies. Others written by grandmothers, who filled the pages with old remedies that Steve could remember from his childhood. There was a skinny paperback by a hippie couple living in a small commune in California, who detailed the benefits of making baby food from the produce of one’s own organic garden. It went into detail about the various additives found in most food products and caused Steve minor anxiety attacks over potentially poisoning his child with the chemically-enriched garbage this generation called food. (It didn’t help that Tony had introduced Loki to the chilidog the previous week and it had quickly become part of his regular pregnancy cravings. Steve had lost count of the times he had been roused by a long finger poking persistently at his shoulder and a groggy, but demanding, “Rogers. Chilidog.”) 

 

Loki thought the books ridiculous, full of absurd Midgardian notions that would be laughed out of existence by any other half-intelligent beings in the realms. Their only redeeming quality, in the trickster’s opinion, was that they packed a nice wallop when he needed something to strike his brother with.

“How has your kind managed to muddle through for so long? What utter nonsense is this?” he had asked after reading a book on the subject of baby yoga.

 

Despite Loki’s disdain, Steve had continued to consume as much information as he could get his hands on. It was simply not in his nature to rush headlong into something without being properly prepared. Strategy and accurate intelligence were vital components to victory in battle; child rearing could not be so different. This was, after all, material complied by professionals and he had been certain their insight would help him better understand his baby.

 

Steve is not so proud that he can’t admit it’s not the first time he’s been wrong.

 

*

 

“Hard to believe no one covered this in a book,” Tony says, fingers trailing over the surface of the gently swirling water in the large Jacuzzi tub. “Chapter Seven: What to Do When Your Baby Turns Herself into an Otter and Her Sorcerer Father-slash-Mother is Off Doing Something Nefarious and Can’t Be Reached.” 

 

“Not helpful, Tony,” Steve says. He’s not going to admit he did briefly scan the books in the hope there might be such a chapter. Asta turns over in the water and surfaces to grapple with a small, bright red plastic tugboat.

 

“I thought Loki could sense when there is something wrong,” Bruce mutters with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“If she’s in distress,” Steve replies, watching as Asta disappears beneath water with the boat wrapped securely between her paws.

 

“And she’s not,” Tony reaches down and pretends to try to snatch the toy away. He grins when she head-butts his hand and ducks underneath it.  “She’s happy as a clam. What’s the problem?” Both Bruce and Steve glare at him.

 

“She’s an otter,” Bruce points out unnecessarily.

 

“So? Maybe she’ll change back on her own or Loki will change her back when he gets home. In the meantime, let her enjoy herself.” With that, Tony climbs into the tub fully clothed and Asta abandons the boat in favor of using her uncle as a jungle gym. Steve massages his temples against the onset of a headache.

 

   His morning started normally enough…well, as normal was in a mansion inhabited by two gods, a super-solider, a billionaire, an occasionally big, green wrecking ball and two assassins. After Steve had changed and fed Asta, Clint had taken her into the den to watch a children’s nature program. Steve had just settled down to eat his own breakfast when the archer returned to the kitchen.

 

“Um, so, Steve, don’t be mad, but I think I broke your kid.” Steve had turned to find Clint’s arms full of a squirming baby otter half tangled in his daughter’s clothes.

 

“What the hell?” Tony asked. “What did you do?”

 

“I don’t know!” Clint cried, as Steve took the wriggling mass of soft, pale brown fur from his arms. “I was…it was…there was thing on the show about otters and then… _this_.” He gestured wildly to the otter. Large black eyes looked up at Steve, unblinking and strangely familiar.

 

“Asta?” he asked cautiously. His daughter squeaked and licked his nose.

 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Tony muttered. 

 

 

 

That’s the short version of how Steve’s normal enough morning turned into this.

 

Bruce mutters something about going back to the lab where things still make sense and abandons Steve with his otter-shaped daughter and a genius playboy who is currently pretending to be a sea monster.

 

*

 

   Natasha and Clint are in the kitchen when Thor returns home. They look up as the door slams open and Thor appears…rather, his legs and feet appear. The rest of the Asgardian’s muscular body is mostly hidden by the massive selection of stuffed toys he is carrying. 

 

“Where is my niece?!” he booms. This has been a fairly common occurrence in the last few months. Every time Thor goes into the city, he inevitably returns with more toys than any child could reasonably ever need in their lifetime. Natasha shakes her head, watching him juggle a stuffed lion that is threatening to tumble over his shoulder.

 

“You’re going to spoil her, Thor,” she mutters.

 

“Yes!” he agrees cheerfully. Clint catches a green gator with big shiny eyes that slips from Thor’s grasp.

 

“Aww, look at that. It’s a puppet,” he says, working his hand into the toy and showing it off to Natasha. “Nom, nom nom.” She rolls her dark eyes.

 

“It’s good you’re home,” she tells Thor. “Steve needs your help with Asta. They’re in the bathroom down the hall.”

 

“Ah. Barton, will you be so kind as to hold these?” Thor doesn’t actually wait for an answer before pushing the load of toys into Clint’s arms.

 

“Uh, well, I…” the archer begins, but Thor is already walking away. Clint tries to peer at Natasha through the meager space between the stuffed penguin and something that is possibly a wolf. “A little help?” The other assassin returns her attention to her crossword.

 

“No,” she replies.

 

 

“Rogers! Black Widow tells me you require assistance—” Thor pauses, looking at the small otter paddling around the tub. He tilts his head curiously in a way that makes him look much like a large retriever pup. “Niece. You are more hirsute than I remember.” Asta squeaks and performs a graceful loop in the water. 

 

“She was a watching a show about otters with Clint,” Steve mutters in way of an explanation as he rubs a hand over his face. Thor nods in understanding. He sits cross-legged beside the tub as Asta turns onto her back and begins to preen.

 

“She is truly her father’s daughter.” Thor smiles, thumb brushing over his niece’s furry belly. Asta clutches at his hand with her paws and gnaws his knuckles idly as she floats around the tub. The Thunder God looks appraisingly at the large basin. “This is a fine pond you have fashioned for her.” Steve represses a sigh of frustration, wondering why he and Bruce are the only ones who find this, in any sense, odd.

 

“What do we do?” Steve asks.

 

“There is no cause for alarm. Loki, too, possessed this power from infancy,” he says. “Once, when I was helping the nursemaid bathe him, he sneezed and took on the form of a duckling. The poor old woman screamed like a banshee and in the confusion, Loki escaped the tub. We only found him when Father woke from a rest to discover a little black duck nesting in his beard.” Despite himself, Steve smiles at the image of his proud, graceful husband waddling around the palace halls. 

 

“Have you talked to your brother?” Thor looks up, smiling patiently at the anxiety that is etched on the captain’s face.

 

“I have not. Do not worry, Rogers,” he says kindly. “This will do no harm.” Steve sighs quietly, sitting down on the tile.

 

“I just… would be more assured if Loki were here.” Asta twists her long body around Thor’s hand and attempts to scale his arm. Rather unsuccessfully, as she simply slides back down into her uncle’s large palm.

 

“As long as she is content, he won’t return until his work is done,” the Thunder God replies.

 

*

 

   Tony’s assertion that Asta might choose to return to human form on her own proves to be overly optimistic. Bruce sits with her and shows her pictures of human babies to see if repeated visual stimuli might encourage her to shift back. Asta, perched elegantly on his knee, looks at him through narrowed shiny black eyes. It is an oddly Loki-like expression that seems to suggest she is well aware of his game and it isn’t going to work. Steve attempts good, old-fashioned begging. 

 

“Please change back for Daddy? Please?” Asta squeaks and bumps her cold nose against his own before disappearing under the water. At this point, Bruce can still not tell him whether she cannot change on her own, or is simply refusing to.

 

*

 

Around noon, Pepper knocks on the door, balancing two plates and a small bowl in her hands.

“I made lunch,” she says, handing him the plate with a large turkey sandwich on it. Steve smiles gratefully and slides over so she can join him.

 

“Oh, thank you, Pepper.”

 

“And I have some chocolate pudding for Miss Asta. If she’s interested in being human again?” Pepper wheedles, placing the bowl down as Asta clambers out of the tub. She slips and slides on wet paws, scrambling to the pudding and promptly shoves her face into the bowl. Pepper laughs.

 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’?” she asks.

 

“Oh, Asta.” Steve catches his daughter’s chin and wipes away the pudding that is spread over her face and…whiskers. Her little pink tongue darts out to catch some of the treat. She makes a soft grumbling noise, twisting out of her father’s hold.

 

“Eat like a lady,” Steve chastises as she sets upon the pudding again, paws sliding into the bowl. Pepper smiles fondly as she watches Asta polish off the dessert and lick the bowl clean.

 

*

 

   Steve spends most of the day sitting by the tub and reading, while Asta plays. The others have been in and out. Clint spent the better part of an hour in the tub reenacting a pirate attack with a plastic tugboat, a bright yellow Viking ship, and a small cache of army men. The historical inaccuracy was enough to give Bruce minor fits. Tony modifies a set of water wings into a makeshift floating bed so Asta can take her nap without having to leave the comfort of the water.

 

Steve leaves the baby monitor in the bathroom and goes back to his bedroom to shuffle through some of Loki’s ancient tomes in hopes of finding something that might help. Of course, they are all written in runes and old scripts that are completely indecipherable to him.

 

When Asta wakes, hungry and somewhat cranky, Steve takes her out of the tub to feed her. While she consumes her baby food enthusiastically, it does not persuade her to change form.

 

 

Later in the day, Thor takes his niece into the garden for a walk. The sun is setting and the last pale orange and pink bands of dusk are fading from sight when Steve goes out looking for them. He finds Thor chasing frogs, while Asta terrorizes the fish in the koi pond. Steve sighs, shaking his head. He crouches down and scoops his daughter out of the water before she can grab another fish just as the frog Thor seems so intent on capturing eludes him and causes the Thunder God to take a graceless dive into the mud. Asta fusses in Steve’s arms, unhappy with being taken away from her new amusement. 

 

“Sorry, sweet girl, but I don’t think the fish can take any more excitement,” Steve tells her. He looks up to see his brother-in-law avidly stalking a lizard. “Thor, you’re setting a bad example. Leave the animals alone.”

 

“These creatures are very strange, Rogers,” the Asgardian states, poking curiously at the lizard’s tail.

 

“I can only imagine what they think about you,” Steve replies as he watches the little reptile zip off into the grass. 

 

After Steve has hosed off Thor (because Pepper won’t let him into the mansion in his muddied state) and given Asta a bath, the team sits down together for dinner. Asta sits on Steve’s lap, occasionally popping up to steal a bit of fish from his plate or grab the small chunks of cornbread that Clint palms to her with no subtlety at all. Discussion at the table varies from SHIELD business and modifications for the quinjet to world events and plans for Coulson’s upcoming birthday. It surprises Steve still, how domestic they have become. More a family now, than just a team of people with similar objective. In a small way, he supposes, they have Loki to thank. Without his threat, the Avengers might never have come together.

 

 

By the time they are finished with dessert, Asta is asleep, draped over Steve’s knee. He tucks her into the crook of one arm so he can help clear the table, albeit one-handed.

 

“Still no idea where your husband is, huh?” Tony asks. The captain shakes his head, picking up another plate and handing it to Clint. Asta makes a snuffling sound, pushing her face against her father’s chest, whining lowly in disapproval at the slight jostling. 

 

“I think I should get this one to bed,” he murmurs, stroking the soft, sleek fur.

 

“That’s probably a good idea,” Bruce agrees, smiling fondly at his little niece. “Kid’s had an eventful day.” Steve bids the others good night and heads upstairs.

 

 

*

 

The mansion is dark and quiet. A shadow moves, unseen, through the thin bands of moonlight that spill through the windows. Now adept at escaping even JARVIS’s sensors, the trickster silently walks the hall. He is dressed in a dark suit and silk tie, his black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. He carries a cane, topped with a fierce looking silver dragon’s head that possesses a pair glowing emerald eyes. If one looked closely they might note the dotting of red on the gleaming surface. Save the cane, the rest of the costume is nothing more than façade; as he walks, it slips away to reveal his usual green and black Asgardian attire. 

 

The day had been…unsatisfactory. Loki had discovered that, in this realm, even the most carefully laid plans had a way of going awry. The mercenaries whose services he had procured turned out to be a bunch of buffoons with just enough firepower and incendiary devices to make their reckless stupidity more dangerous than useful. Loki now had to think of men like these wandering free on the same landmass as his daughter and husband. He had briefly entertained the idea of burying them in their bunker, but he suspected the good captain would not approve of such an action. Instead, he had struck them mute and blind, and crippled their hands with painful paralysis that would make it impossible for them to hold any weapon. It was as merciful as he was willing to be, considering that they had wasted his time. 

 

Steve would consider an entire mercenary unit taken out of play to be a successful day, but for the trickster it was a minor benefit of an abject failure. It makes him feel anxious, unsettled. This does not mean an end to his plans, merely a revision, but that would take more time and Loki’s patience was already wearing thin. Competent villainy is ever a struggle to find in this realm and it makes him want to seek out something greater and more destructive than himself. He knows, even as he thinks of it, that it is a desire he will never fulfill. It would not cause him any distress to see this realm fall, to watch its pathetic population scramble against their own deserved demise. But this is the home world of his husband and his daughter. She had been born here, in this very house. For the two he loves more than life, he spares the billions whose loss would mean nothing to him.

 

Loki finds Steve asleep, curled on his side; one muscular arm is wrapped protectively around a small otter, whose furry little face is scrunched against her father’s chest. At the sight of his family, the coil of tension within him begins to ease. Whatever his deficiencies as a son, a prince, or even a villain, they mean nothing to these two beings.  Here, he is not trickster, Silvertongue, Liesmith, Villain, or Loki of Asgard or Jotunheim; he is ‘husband’ and ‘father’ and it is these titles he has come to prefer. He places the cane against the nightstand and sits down on the edge of the bed. Steve’s blue eyes flutter open as the mattress dips beneath Loki’s weight.

 

“Hey…” he mumbles sleepily.  “You’re back. How was your day?”

 

“A disappointment,” he replies simply. Steve sighs, taking Loki’s hand into his own.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Loki’s knuckles. The trickster smiles faintly. He is both frustrated and comforted by his husband’s sincerity. Though he is quite aware what Loki’s current scheme might mean for SHEILD, Steve does not purposely wish any failure that would mean the trickster’s unhappiness.

  

“You should not be,” he says quietly. Loki gathers Asta’s sleek, pliant body into his arms. The little one does not wake, only rubs her head against her father’s gauntlet before settling once more.  

 

“She has started shifting earlier than I thought,” he observes. Steve sits up, scrubbing a hand through his disheveled blond hair.

 

“Earlier? Thor said you were an infant when you shifted for the first time,” he mumbles around a yawn. 

 

“She is half-human. I was unsure she would even possess the ability.”  Loki strokes his long fingers through her soft fur. “What prompted this?”

 

“That nature program she watches with Clint in the mornings.” Steve touches her little paw, smiling when it flexes. “Is she going to do this whenever she sees something she wants to emulate? Because it will be a problem if it happens in public.”

 

“She can hardly help it. At this age, it is more a reflex than a conscious decision,” the trickster replies. “I can use a small enchantment that will prevent her from shifting if you would like.”  

 

“It won’t hurt her, right?” Steve asks hesitantly. Loki’s mouth turns up into a vague smile; he always finds Steve’s ignorance of magic to be an amusing thing.

 

“No. It will simply restrict her from changing form unconsciously.” Asta makes a soft sound and rolls onto her back, little paws curled against her chest. Loki cradles her fragile skull in the palm of his hand. “I will teach her to control this ability when she is older.” He brushes his nose against Asta’s brow, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.  

 

Steve takes special joy in watching Loki with their daughter. The way his expression softens when he looks upon her. It is such a rare thing to see him so unguarded and it makes Steve’s heart ache to witness it.

 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he murmurs, fingers brushing Loki’s thigh.

 

“You have done well in my absence. I know this must have been quite a strange experience for you.”

 

“Your brother told me not to worry; he assured me she was fine.”

 

“He has his uses.” In Loki’s arms, Asta snuffles and rouses, raising her head to blink blurrily up at her fathers. At the sight of Loki, she squeaks excitedly. The trickster chuckles softly as she nuzzles at his throat and face.

“I missed you too, love. I see you have been giving your father a bit of excitement.” Asta speaks in a series of enthusiastic squeaks and chirps, as though attempting to communicate the story of her adventure. “As much as you are enjoying this, it is time to end the game, darling.” Beneath Loki’s hand, the dark fur begins to fade, the elongated body drawing in, molding itself into a softer, chubbier form. Human once more, Asta curls her fingers tightly into her father’s robe and rests her head against his armor. She makes a soft, contented sound, green eyes drooping as Loki’s long fingers card through her fine blond hair. Steve smiles sleepily, watching them.

 

“You’re a good father,” he whispers. Loki reaches out, the back of his fingers stroking over the captain’s jaw.

 

“You look exhausted, husband,” he murmurs. “Sleep. I’ll put her to bed.”

 

“Ok.” Steve leans forward to press a kiss to his daughter’s head. “Good night, angel.”

 

 

Steve is dozing, lingering on the hazy edge of sleep when Loki returns. He hears the soft rustle of cloth as the trickster strips and the subtle movement of the mattress as he settles on top of the covers. Steve rolls over clumsily and slides an arm around Loki’s tapered waist, dragging him close.

 

“So, things did not go so well today, huh?” he asks. Loki’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling.

 

“No,” he replies. The captain yawns widely.

 

“I’m sorry.” Loki turns his head, green eyes shining the dark.

 

“So you have said.”

 

“What can I do?” The trickster raises an eyebrow.

 

“You would aid me in my villainy?”  The captain looks pensive, as though considering the conditions and consequences of doing so. Loki shakes his head. “There is nothing you can do for me without betraying your role as Avenger. Do not trouble yourself.” Steve’s fingers move along his side, his chest and collarbone. Loki is not ignorant of the touch; his husband is seeking injuries. He knows very well that it would take far more than human weaponry to even bruise him, but Steve seems to need to assure himself of Loki’s well-being.  As it puts the captain’s mind at ease, the trickster submits to the examination without complaint or comment. Once Steve is satisfied, the touch becomes more affectionate, large hand splayed over his ribcage, warm and heavy. He exhales a breath, resting his forehead against the trickster’s.

 

“Are you busy tomorrow?” he asks quietly. “I was thinking we could take Asta into the city. It’ll be a family outing. What do you say?”  Loki looks contemplatively at his husband. He has the thought that this is something of a ploy, on Steve’s part, to keep him close. When things do not go well, it often means Loki has made a new foe and that tends to make the good captain uneasy. Such concern is unwarranted, of course; he has made many enemies and there has not been one yet that can best him. Perhaps a bit of a scheme then, but one Loki does not mind becoming entangled in.

 

“I would like that,” he murmurs, treading his fingers through the captain’s hair and drawing him into a kiss. He can feel Steve’s lips pull into a smile against his own and it gives him a small sense of accomplishment that he has made his husband happy.

 

Domination of this realm can wait a few days. There are some things that are more important.

 

End

 

 


End file.
